


Long Distance Call (3.14)

by ackles_ass_equation



Series: Superghetto [59]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Canon Compliant, Canon Related, Episode: s03e14 Long Distance Call, Screenplay/Script Format
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-18
Updated: 2016-08-18
Packaged: 2018-08-09 14:37:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7805692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ackles_ass_equation/pseuds/ackles_ass_equation
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Da hood of Milan, Ohio, is plagued by a seriez of calls where tha suckas is contacted by dead loved ones, n' urged ta commit suicide. When Dean n' Sam investigate, Dean gets a cold-ass lil call of his own n' tha two brothers is soon at odds.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. NOW

INTERIOR fo' realz. A COLD RAIN LASHES A LARGE COMFORTABLE HOUSE. 

A playa is up in his study yo. Dude pours a whiskey n' strutts back n' forth, lookin worried. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Da beeper rings n' he jerks yo. Dude stares at it fo' a long-ass moment then moves ta pick it up. Da phonez display shows 'SHA33'.

**MAN  
** Hello.

**WOMAN  
** Ben.

**BEN  
** Linda.

**LINDA  
** Ben, I had ta rap ta you, biatch...

**BEN  
** Yo ass can't keep callin here.

**LINDA  
** I know. I know, just...just tell me you thought bout it please.

**BEN  
** Therez not a god damn thang ta be thinkin about.

**LINDA  
** Don't say all dis bullshit.

**BEN  
** I can't. Yo ass know I can't. My fuckin hoe....

**LINDA  
** I be beggin you, come ta mah dirty ass. Come ta me, Ben.

**BEN  
** No.

Dude hangs up. Da beeper immediately starts ringin again. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. BEN picks it up.

**BEN  
** Linda. Please. Please leave me ridin' solo.

**LINDA  
** I aint goin ta stop. I miss you, Ben. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. We could be horny. We could be aiiight together.

**BEN  
** This is...this is crazy.

**LINDA  
** I gots a straight-up boner fo' you, nahmean biiiatch, biatch? Forever n' shit. Don't you ludd me son?

**BEN  
** Yo ass know I do. Mo' than anything. I be sorry as a muthafucka bout dat bullshit. 

**LINDA  
** Ben, wait....

BEN hangs up. Da beeper rings again. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. BEN picks up tha receiver n' slams it back down a fuckin shitload of times, then throws tha whole beeper across tha room, tha cord rippin outta tha wall. BEN rubs his wild lil' grill n' stares at nothing. 

Afta all dem moments tha beeper starts ringin again. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. BEN looks shattered. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Dude slowly opens tha desk draw n' takes up a handgun. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch yo. Dude stares at it fo' all dem secondz then takes a thugged-out deep breath.

**BEN  
** Okay, Linda. Yo ass win.

Dude stares all up in tha ceiling, then lifts tha glock n' places tha barrel against his cold-ass throat, pointin upwardz yo. Dude cocks dat shit. 

**BEN  
** I be coming.

Close up of tha beeper screen spinnin all up in letta n' numbers n' again n' again n' again landin on SHA33 fo' realz. A gunshot is heard, then tha thud of suttin' hittin tha ground.


	2. ACT ONE

SAM strutts across a cold-ass lil hood square toward DEAN chillin on a funky-ass bench.

 **DEAN  
** (Into phone) Yep. I gots dat shit. Okay, bye. 

DEAN hangs up then up in one motion picks up n' throws a unopened can of soda ta SAM, standz up n' shoves tha last of tha chicken he is smokin tha fuck into his crazy-ass grill. 

 **DEAN  
** (Chewing) So?

 **SAM  
** So, tha pimp don't give a fuck crap.

 **DEAN  
** Shocking. Pack yo' panties, Sammy, our crazy asses hittin tha road.

 **SAM  
** What, biatch? Whatz good?

 **DEAN  
** That was Bobby. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Some banker muthafucka blew his head off up in Ohio n' tha pimpin' muthafucka be thinkin there be a a spirit involved.

 **SAM  
** So you two was poppin' off a cold-ass lil case?

 **DEAN  
** Fuck dat shit, we was straight-up poppin' off bout our vibe fo' realz. And then our most straight-up bangin pimp bands. Yeah, we was poppin' off a cold-ass lil case biaatch!

 **SAM  
** So a spirit, what?

 **DEAN  
** Yeah, tha banker was poppin' off bout some sort of electrical problems at his thugged-out lil' pad fo' like a week. Phone was goin haywire, computa was flippin on n' off. 

 **SAM  
** Huh...

 **DEAN  
** This aint ringin yo' bell?

 **SAM  
** Well, sure, yeah. But, Dean, we already on a cold-ass lil case. 

 **DEAN  
** Whose?

 **SAM  
** Yours.

 **DEAN  
** Right. Yeah. Well, you coulda fooled mah dirty ass.

 **SAM  
** What tha hell else have we been bustin lately other than tryin ta break yo' deal?

 **DEAN  
** Chasin our tails, thatz what. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Sam, we've talked ta every last muthafuckin pimp, witch, soothsayer n' two bit carny act up in tha lower 48. No Muthafucka knows squat son! And we can't find Bela, we can't find tha Colt. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. So until we straight-up find something, I'd like ta do mah thang. 

 **SAM  
** Well there be a one thang we aint tried yet...

 **DEAN  
** Sam, no.

 **SAM  
** We should summon Ruby.

 **DEAN  
** I aint gunna have dis fight wit you, biatch.

 **SAM  
** Bitch holla'd she knows how tha fuck ta save you, biatch.

 **DEAN  
** Well, dat thugged-out biiiatch can't.

 **SAM  
** Oh straight-up, you know dat fo' sure?

 **DEAN  
** I do.

 **SAM  
** How?

 **DEAN  
** Because dat dunkadelic hoe holla'd at me, aiiight hommie!

 **SAM  
** What?

 **DEAN  
** Bitch holla'd at mah dirty ass. Flat out. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Biatch can't save me, no muthafucka can.

 **SAM  
** And you just somehow neglected ta mention dis ta me son?

 **DEAN  
** Well, I straight-up couldn't give a fuckin shiznit what tha fuck dat biiiatch be thinkin n' neither should you, so...

 **SAM  
** So what, now you keepin secrets from me, Dean?

 **DEAN  
** Yo ass straight-up wanna rap bout whoz keepin secrets from who?

They stare at each other up in silence fo' a long-ass moment. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. SAM turns away.

 **DEAN  
** Now where you going?

SAM  
Guess I be goin ta Ohio.  
  
..........................

EXTERIOR. BEN'S HOUSE.

SAM n' DEAN up in tha Impala turn tha fuck into tha driveway of tha doggy den where BEN died. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Cut ta tha study.

 **WOMAN  
** (Pointing) I found his ass there.

 **DEAN  
** Why don't you tell our asses every last muthafuckin thang you saw, Mrs Waters. 

 **MRS WATERS  
** Yo ass mean beside mah dead homeboy?

 **SAM  
** Just every last muthafuckin thang else you saw. Please.

 **MRS WATERS  
** (Sighing) Blood. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! I be fly as a gangbangin' falcon, soarin all up in tha sky dawwwwg! Everywhere, so peek-a-boo, clear tha way, I be comin' thru fo'sho. Da beeper was ripped from tha wall, his wild lil' most straight-up bangin scotch on tha desk, what tha fuck else could you possibly wanna know?

 **SAM  
** Why was tha beeper ripped from tha wall?

 **MRS WATERS  
** I don't give a gangbangin' fuck. 

 **SAM  
** Yo ass mind if I take a look?

 **MRS WATERS  
** I already went over dis wit tha other detectives.

 **DEAN  
** We bout ta be outta yo' afro up in no time, ma'am. 

 **SAM  
** (Pressin all dem buttons) Ma'am, what tha fuck time did yo' homeboy die?

 **MRS WATERS  
** (Sighing) Sometime afta 11. 

SAM waits until DEAN looks at him, then taps tha beeper display.

 **DEAN  
** What bout strange beeper calls, biatch? Receive any of dem lately, weird interference, static, anythang like that?

 **MRS WATERS  
** (Defensively) No.

DEAN raises his wild lil' fuckin eyebrows at her muthafuckin ass.

 **MRS WATERS  
** No!

 **DEAN  
** Mrs Waters, withholdin shiznit from tha five-o be a cold-ass lil capital offence.

SAM noisily clears his cold-ass throat. DEAN glances at his ass n' receives a funky-ass biiiatchface.

 **DEAN  
** (Under his breath) In some partz of tha ghetto I be sure.

 **MRS WATERS  
** (Sighing) A couple weeks ago, uh....there was this...

 **DEAN  
** This what?

 **MRS WATERS  
** I raised up one morning, I heard Lil' Bow Wow up in his study.. n' you KNOWS da thug was poppin' off ta a biatch.

 **SAM  
** What made you be thinkin that?

 **MRS WATERS  
** Because he kept callin her Linda. Da thang is, I picked up tha other line n' no muthafucka was there, Lil' Bow Wow was poppin' off ta no muthafucka.

 **SAM  
** There was nothing?

 **MRS WATERS  
** Just static.

 **SAM  
** Did yo dirty ass eva drop a rhyme ta Lil' Bow Wow bout dis beeper call?

 **MRS WATERS  
** No. I should have but...no.

 **SAM  
** Did he eva say whoz ass Linda was?

 **MRS WATERS  
** (Gettin upset) What difference do it make, there was no muthafucka on tha other end dawwwg!

Da thugs exchange a look.  
  
............................

INTERIOR. MOTEL ROOM.

DEAN be all up in tha laptop, SAM chillin on tha bed. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! 

 **DEAN  
** Lindaz a funky-ass babe. Or, was. 

 **SAM  
** (Rising) Did yo dirty ass find her?

 **DEAN  
** Yeah, Linda Bateman. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Biatch n' Lil' Bow Wow Watas was high school dopehearts.

 **SAM  
** So what tha fuck happened?

 **DEAN  
** Drunk driver hit dem head on. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Lil' Bow Wow strutted away.

 **SAM  
** So, what tha fuck then, biatch? Dead flame calls ta chat?

 **DEAN  
** Yo ass would think yo, but Linda was cremated. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! This type'a shiznit happens all tha time. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. So whyz her big-ass booty still floatin around?

 **SAM  
** Yo ass gots mah dirty ass.

 **DEAN  
** What bout that, uh, calla I.D?

 **SAM  
** Turns out, itz a funky-ass beeper number.

 **DEAN  
** No beeper number I've eva seen.

 **SAM  
** Yeah, ’cause itz on some cold-ass lil century old, back from when phones had cranks. 

 **DEAN  
** So why use dat number ta reach up n' bust a nut on one of mah thugs?

 **SAM  
** Got me there too yo, but we should put a trace on dat shit.

 **DEAN  
** Well how tha fuck tha hell is we goin ta put a trace on suttin' thatz over 100 muthafuckin years old?

..........................

INTERIOR. BASEMENT OFFICE

DEAN n' SAM follow a suited playa down tha stairs n' along a hallway. 

 **MAN  
** Us dudes don't git nuff folks from HQ down here.

 **DEAN  
** Yes yes y'all, well tha main crib mentioned dat there would be a lunch.

SAM gives DEAN biiiatchface behind tha manz back. DEAN shrugs.

 **MAN  
** Well I be shizzle we can arrange something. Da playa you wanna be bustin lyrics ta is right this...

SAM swipes at a gangbangin' fly dat has flown tha fuck into his hair. Shiiit, dis aint no joke. 

 **MAN  
** I know, sorry bout dat bullshit. We've gots suttin' of a game issue down here if you ask mah dirty ass.

 **MAN  
** (Enterin tha basement office) Stewie, biatch? What did I rap bout keepin dis place clean.

STEWIE sits at a big-ass console wit multiple screens n' keyboards. Various packets n' junk chicken is strewn about. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. STEWIE jumps at they entrizzle n' desperately tries ta close down tha multiple screens up in front of his ass showin advertisements fo' porn sites.

 **STEWIE  
** (Clickin quickly) Spam mail...spam mail...

 **MAN  
** Stewie Myers. Mista Muthafuckin Campbell. Mista Muthafuckin Raimi.

 **STEWIE  
** (Still clicking) I don't give a fuck how tha fuck all dis gots here...

Da MAN reaches up n' flicks tha back of STEWIE'S head, makin his ass jump again n' again n' again n' grunt.

 **MAN  
** From headquarters?

STEWIE spins round up in his chair, then quickly crosses his hairy-ass legs n' places his handz together on his fuckin lap.

 **MAN  
** Give these gentlemen whatever they need.

 **STEWIE  
** Yeah.

 **DEAN  
** Nuff props, biatch.

 **SAM  
** Thanks.

Da MAN leaves.

 **STEWIE  
** So....can I help yo slick ass?

DEAN checks ta make shizzle tha MAN is gone, then gestures toward tha screen.

 **DEAN  
** (Smirking) Is that, ahhh, BustyAsianBeauties.com?

 **STEWIE  
** (Quickly) No.

 **WOMAN ON COMPUTER  
** Oh, me so horny.

A blasted of tha screen shows it is bustyasianbeauties.com. 

 **STEWIE  
** (Quickly clickin again) Maybe.

 **DEAN  
** A word ta tha wise, biatch? Platinum membership, biatch? Worth every last muthafuckin penny. Ha, biatch? (DEAN nodz knowingly)

 **SAM  
** Right, anyway. Our thugged-out asses here ta trace a number?

SAM handz STEWIE a piece of paper.

 **STEWIE  
** Where did you git this?

 **SAM  
** Off calla I.D.

 **STEWIE  
** Oh shiiiiiiiit, thatz impossible.

 **DEAN  
** It aint been used up in all dem years, we know.

 **STEWIE  
** A few years, biatch? It aint nuthin but prehistoric. Trust me, no muthafucka is rockin dis number no mo'.

 **SAM  
** Sure. Could you run it anyway?

 **STEWIE  
** (Snarkily) Sure. Why don't I just rearrange mah whole game first.

DEAN n' SAM glizzle at each other n' shit. DEAN smiles.

 **DEAN  
** (Leanin closer) Listen, uh, Stewie. Yo ass gots like six kindz of hommie code violations down here, not ta mention tha sickenin porn dat is cloggin up yo' hard drive. Now when mah partner say run tha number, I suggest you run tha number playa! 

They both give Stewie a hard look yo. Dude looks between dem then turns back ta his console. DEAN grins n' SAM shrugs n' smilez back.

 **STEWIE  
** Okay, whatever, jeez!

STEWIE clicks all dem mo' buttons. One of his screens fills wit a long-ass list of numbers. 

 **STEWIE  
** Holy crap.

 **SAM  
** What?

 **STEWIE  
** I can't rap where tha number be reppin yo, but I can rap where itz been going.

 **SAM  
** What do you mean?

STEWIE pushes print, goes ta tha printa n' handz some paper ta SAM.

 **STEWIE  
** Ten different number up in tha past few weeks, all gots calls from tha same number.

Dude looks between SAM n' DEAN as they stare at each other, then sighs n' strutts between dem back ta his console yo. Dude sits n' stares at it fo' a moment, then looks back. 

 **STEWIE  
** So, is our phat asses done here, biatch? Cause I was....sort of...busy?

 **DEAN  
** (Smirking) Right. 

..............................

EXTERIOR. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. SUBURBAN STREET.

SAM gets outta a rental hoopty yo. Dude make his way up a gangbangin' footpath, knockin on tha door. Shiiit, dis aint no joke. Well shiiiit, it is opened by a middle-aged man. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch yo. His lil hustla comes ta stand beside him, round 6-7 yrs old.

 **MAN  
** Yeah?

 **SAM  
** Wuz crackalackin' sir, I be wit tha beeper company?

 **MAN  
** Us dudes didn't call tha beeper company.

 **SAM  
** Oh shiiiiiiiit sir, we callin you, biatch. We've had a shitload of disses from tha neighbourhood lately.

 **MAN  
** Complaints?

 **SAM  
** Yes yes y'all, sir. Shiiit, dis aint no joke. Dropped calls, static, maybe even strange voices on tha other end of tha line?

A teenage hoes steps tha fuck into tha hallway while SAM is bustin lyrics, lookin startled. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! 

 **MAN  
** Fuck dat shit, we aint had any of dat here.

 **SAM  
** Nothing?

 **MAN  
** No.

 **SAM  
** Okay. Great, just thought we'd check. Thanks. 

 **MAN  
** No problem. (to his son) Come on, Simon. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. 

As they turn ta close tha door SAM sees tha hoe starin at him, lookin trippin like a muthafucka. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Biatch turns away as tha door closes. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. SAM stares afta her n' shit. 

SAM returns ta his hoopty fo' realz. As he opens tha door tha hoe appears.

 **LANIE  
** No way you work fo' tha beeper company.

 **SAM  
** Sure I do. 

 **LANIE  
** Since when do a funky-ass beeper muthafucka drive a rental or wear a cold-ass lil skanky suit?

 **SAM  
** (Huffin a laugh) Yeah, well. Maybe we both keepin secrets.

 **LANIE  
** Why did you ask mah Dad if dat schmoooove muthafucka hearin strange voices on tha phone?

 **SAM  
** Why, did you hear something?

 **LANIE  
** No.

 **SAM  
** My fuckin mistake, I thought maybe you done did.

 **LANIE  
** Well I didn't, aiiight?

 **SAM  
** (Smiling) Okay. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Sorry ta bother you, biatch.

LANIE looks uncomfortable but don't move. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. SAM looks down at his keys.

 **SAM  
** Because you know...if you done did...then I would have holla'd at you dat I've been right where you standin n' aint a thugged-out damn thang dat yo' ass can do yo. Hearin thangs, even seein thangs dat can't be explained. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Maybe I would done been able ta help up a lil bit fo' realz. Anyway...

 **LANIE  
** Yo wait. Maybe....maybe I've been poppin' off on tha phone...with mah Mom. 

 **SAM  
** Well thatz not so strange.

 **LANIE  
** Dat hoe dead as fuckin fried chicken. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Like three muthafuckin years now, nahmeean, biatch? 

 **SAM  
** How tha fuck often do dat thugged-out biiiatch call yo slick ass?

 **LANIE  
** A few times. Well shiiiit, it started a week ago.. n' you KNOWS I was like, wild-ass or something.

 **SAM**  
Well I can rap one thang fo' sure, n' you goin ta gotta go wit me on this, aiiight, biatch? Yo ass aint crazy.  
  
.....................

INTERIOR. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. SAM'S RENTAL CAR.

 **SAM  
** (answerin phone) Yeah.

 **DEAN  
** (Walkin down a funky-ass busy street) Dude, stiffs done been callin playas all over town.

 **SAM  
** Yeah, tell me bout dat shit. 

 **DEAN  
** I just talked ta a 84 year oldschool grandmutha whoz havin beeper sex wit her homeboy, whoz ass took a dirt nap up in Korea!

 **SAM  
** Eww.

 **DEAN  
** It redefined mah understandin of tha word 'Necrophilia'.

A lil' biatch struttin past DEAN overhears n' gasps, givin his ass a gangbangin' finger-lickin' dirty look as she passes yo. Dude pauses, grimacing, then turns ta check her up as dat thugged-out biiiatch continues strutting. 

 **SAM  
** So what tha fuck tha hellz goin on here, Dean?

 **DEAN  
** (Reachin tha Impala) Beats me yo, but we'd betta smoke up soon. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. This place is turnin tha fuck into spook central.

 **SAM  
** Yeah fo' realz. All right, I be bout ta call you later.

 **DEAN  
** (Openin tha door) Yeah.

They hang up. DEAN'S beeper immediately rings again.

 **DEAN  
** Yeah, what?

There aint a god damn thang but static. 

 **DEAN  
** Sam?

 **JOHN  
** Dean?

DEAN freezes, lookin shocked.

 **JOHN  
** Dean, is dat yo slick ass?

 **DEAN  
** Dad?


	3. ACT TWO

INTERIOR. MOTEL ROOM.

SAM sits all up in tha table, DEAN paces. 

 **SAM  
** Dad, biatch? Yo ass straight-up be thinkin dat shiznit was Dad?

 **DEAN  
** I don't give a fuck, maybe.

 **SAM  
** Well what tha fuck did da perved-out muthafucka sound like?

 **DEAN  
** Like Oprah! Like Dad, da perved-out muthafucka sounded like Dad, what tha fuck do you think?

 **SAM  
** What did da perved-out muthafucka say?

 **DEAN  
** My fuckin name. 

 **SAM  
** Thatz it?

 **DEAN  
** Call dropped out.

 **SAM  
** Why would he even call up in tha straight-up original gangsta place, Dean?

 **DEAN  
** I don't give a fuck, man. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Why is pimps callin anybody up in dis town, biatch? But I mean, other playas is hearin from they loved ones, why can't we, biatch? It aint nuthin but at least a possibility, right?

 **SAM  
** Yeah, I guess?

 **DEAN  
** Okay, so what tha fuck if....what if it straight-up is Dad, biatch? What happens if his schmoooove ass calls back?

 **SAM  
** What do you mean?

 **DEAN  
** What do I say?

 **SAM  
** Hello.

 **DEAN  
** Hello?

SAM shrugs.

 **DEAN  
** Thatz what tha fuck you come back wit yo. Hello?

 **SAM  
** Uhh...

 **DEAN  
** (Grabbin his jacket n' headin fo' tha door) Hello!

DEAN strutts out. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. SAM looks afta him, concerned. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Dude shakes his head. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! 

...................

INTERIOR. MOTEL ROOM.

Later n' shit. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. SAM sits on tha couch wit tha laptop up in front of his muthafuckin ass. DEAN returns.

 **DEAN  
** Find anything?

 **SAM  
** Afta three minutes I have found no reason why anythang supernatural would be goin on here.

 **DEAN  
** Well, you know, you be thinkin a Stanford ejaculation n' a high school hook up rate of zero point zero would produce betta thangs up in dis biatch than all dis bullshit.

 **SAM  
** Hilarious.

 **DEAN  
** Sammy, you just lookin up in tha wack places, pal.

 **SAM  
** And what tha fuck is tha right places, Dean?

 **DEAN  
** (Reachin tha fuck into his jacket pocket) Motel pamphlet rack. 

DEAN drops some literature on tha fruity-ass malt liquor table.

 **DEAN  
** Milan, Ohio. Birthplace of Thomas Edison.

 **SAM  
** (Flickin all up in tha papers) Yeah, right. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. So what?

 **DEAN  
** Keep reading.

SAM scoffs slightly n' keeps lookin yo. Dude sighs yo, but afta all dem moments his wild lil' fuckin eyebrows go up n' he looks at DEAN.

 **SAM  
** Yo ass is kidding.

DEAN raises his wild lil' fuckin eyebrows back, smiling.

.....................

INTERIOR. MUSEUM.

A lil' biatch guide shepherdz a tour. Shiiit, dis aint no joke. 

 **GUIDE  
** And we struttin fo' realz. And, here our crazy asses have one of tha museumz most unique n' treasured possessions. Thomas Edisonz  _spirit phone_. Did yo dirty ass know dat Mista Muthafuckin Edison, as well as bein one of Americaz most beloved inventors, was also a thugged-out devout  _occultist_ , biatch? Ooh!

 **DEAN  
** (Whispering) Whatz wit tha quote-y fingers?

 **GUIDE  
** Dude dropped muthafuckin years hustlin on this, his wild lil' final invention, which da thug was convinced could be used ta  _communicate_  wit tha  _dead_. Pretty spooky, huh?

Da guide checks her peep it, twirls her fingers up in tha air n' begins leadin tha crew tha fuck into tha next room.

 **GUIDE  
** And we strutting. We is strutting. Us thugs struttin fo' realz. And our asses aint touchin dis shiznit fo' realz. And we struttin fo' realz. And stop.

SAM quickly gets up his EMF n' holdz it over tha spirit phone.

 **DEAN  
** Anything?

 **SAM  
** Nothing.

 **DEAN  
** What do you think?

 **SAM  
** Honestly, biatch? It kinda be lookin like a oldschool pile of junk ta mah dirty ass.

 **DEAN  
** It aint nuthin but not even plugged in.

 **SAM  
** Maybe it didn't work like all dis bullshit.

 **DEAN  
** Okay. Maybe itz like a radio tower, broadcastin tha dead all over town.

 **SAM  
** Could be.

 **DEAN  
** Yo ass know, dis calla I.D. is 100 muthafuckin years old, right, biatch? Right round tha time dis thang was built.

 **SAM  
** Yeah yo, but why would all dat shiznit of a sudden start hustlin now?

 **DEAN  
** I don't give a gangbangin' fuck. But as long as tha mouldy is callin tha freshers round here itz tha dopest reason we've got.

 **SAM  
** Yeah, maybe.

 **DEAN  
** So maybe it straight-up is Dad.

............................

INTERIOR. MOTEL ROOM. NIGHT.

SAM chills. DEAN sits all up in tha table, a big-ass take away fruity-ass malt liquor cup up in his hand, his beeper beside his muthafuckin ass yo. Dude stares tha fuck into space. Da beeper rings, tha display showin 'SHA33'. DEAN grabs it quickly n' headz tha fuck into tha bathroom.

 **DEAN  
** (Whispering) Dad?

 **JOHN  
** Dean. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. 

 **DEAN  
** Is it straight-up yo slick ass?

 **JOHN  
** It aint nuthin but mah dirty ass.

 **DEAN  
** How tha fuck can I be sure?

 **JOHN  
** Yo ass can't. Dean, how tha fuck could you do it?

 **DEAN  
** What?

 **JOHN  
** Sell yo' ass.

 **DEAN  
** (Concerned) I was lookin afta Sam, like you holla'd at mah crazy ass to.

 **JOHN  
** I never wanted all dis bullshit. Never n' shit. Yo ass is mah boy, I gots a straight-up boner fo' you, biatch. I can't peep you ta git all up in hell, Dean.

 **DEAN  
** I be sorry as a muthafucka bout dat bullshit. I don't give a fuck how tha fuck ta stop dat shit.

 **JOHN  
** ’Cause if you break tha deal Sam dies, right?

 **DEAN  
** What?

 **JOHN  
** Well I know a way out. For both of you, biatch.

 **DEAN  
** How?

 **JOHN  
** Da demon whoz ass holdz yo' contract. Dat punk here, so peek-a-boo, clear tha way, I be comin' thru fo'sho. Now.

........................................

INTERIOR. LANIE'S BEDROOM.

LANIE is on her computer n' shit. 

 **LANIE  
** (Writes) Okay. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. See you tomorrow.

Da computa beeps a freshly smoked up message.

 **SHA33  
** Lanie, biatch? Is dat yo slick ass?

 **LANIE  
** (Typing) Mom?

 **SHA33  
** I axed you a question last night yo. Has you done thought bout it?

 **LANIE  
** I don't give a fuck what tha fuck you want.

 **SHA33  
** Of course you do. I wanna peep you, biatch.

 **LANIE  
** I went ta peep you, biatch fo' realz. At tha cemetery.

 **SHA33  
** Thatz not what tha fuck I mean.

 **LANIE  
** But I be trippin like a muthafucka.

 **SHA33  
** Don't be sacred. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! I be right here wit you, biatch.

Da screen suddenly blacks out. LANIE can peep her reflection up in dat shit. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Biatch is terrified. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Behind her, her mutha approaches n' lays a hand on her shoulder n' shit. LANIE swings round but there be a no one there, so peek-a-boo, clear tha way, I be comin' thru fo'sho. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Biatch jumps up, turns off tha screen n' backs away, gaspin n' crying.

Da screen turns itself back on. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. LANIE gasps. "Come ta mah dirty ass." is typed over n' over across tha whole screen. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. LANIE approaches tha computer, crying.


	4. ACT THREE

INTERIOR. MOTEL ROOM.

DEAN is typin furiously on tha laptop. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. SAM enters.

 **DEAN  
** Whatz good?

 **SAM  
** That hoe Lanie, her Momz pimp spooked her up pretty shitty last night.

 **DEAN  
** That sucks.

 **SAM  
** Yeah it do. What is you bustin?

 **DEAN  
** I be thinkin Dadz right. I be thinkin tha demon is here, so peek-a-boo, clear tha way, I be comin' thru fo'sho. Peep it out.

DEAN handz SAM some papers n' goes ta his bag. 

 **SAM  
** What tha fuck iz this, drizzle reports?

 **DEAN  
** Omens. Demonic omens. Electrical storms everywhere we've been fo' tha past two weeks.

 **SAM  
** Ahh...I don't remember any lightnin storms.

 **DEAN  
** Well, I don't remember you studyin meteorologizzle as a kid either n' shit. But I be spittin some lyrics ta you, dat bastardz been tailin mah dirty ass...bustin some skanky dudez meat.

 **SAM  
** And itz followin you cuz...

 **DEAN  
** I guess I be big-ass game, you know. My fuckin ass is too dope ta let outta sight.

 **SAM  
** Okay. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Sure.

 **DEAN  
** (Snatchin tha papers back) Don't git too excited, Sammy. Might pull something.

 **SAM  
** Dean, look, I wanna believe dis dude, I straight-up do...

 **DEAN  
** Then believe dat shiznit son! if we git dis sucker, itz Milla Time. 

 **SAM  
** Yeah, thatz another thang. Dad rattlez off a exorcizzle dat can bust a cap up in a thugged-out demon, biatch? I mean not just bust it back ta hell yo, but bust a cap up in it?

 **DEAN  
** I've checked it out. This is heavy duty Dark Ages. Fifteenth century.

 **SAM  
** (Quietly) Yeah, I've checked on it too Dean. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch fo' realz. And so did Bobby.

 **DEAN  
** Okay, and?

 **SAM  
** Look. Well shiiiit, it definitely be a exorcism, aiiight, there be a just no evidence it can bust a cap up in a thugged-out demon.

 **DEAN  
** No evidence it can't.

 **SAM  
** Come on man...

 **DEAN  
** Yo, as far as I be aware tha only one of our asses whoz ass has straight-up been ta hell is Dad. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! And maybe he picked up a cold-ass lil couple tricks down there, like which exorcizzlez work. 

 **SAM  
** Maybe it do. I hope it do too yo, but we gotta be sure. 

 **DEAN  
** Why aren't we sure?

 **SAM  
** ’Cause I don't give a fuck what tha fuck be happenin round here Dean! I mean, some muthafucka blows his domes out, a lil hoe is scared outta her wits.

 **DEAN  
** Fuck dat shit, a cold-ass lil couple civvies is freaked up by some pimps. Shit flash Sam, playas is supposed ta be freaked up by pimps!

They stare at each other fo' a long-ass moment. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. SAM sighs n' DEAN drops his head up in frustration.

 **SAM  
** Dad rap where ta find tha demon?

 **DEAN  
** (Shouting) I be waitin on tha call!

 **SAM  
** (Sighin again) I holla'd at Lanie I'd stop by.

 **DEAN  
** (Sarcastic) Oh, phat yeah. No you go ride wit jail bait. Just, uh, peep up fo' Chris Hansen. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Meanwhile I be bout ta be here gettin locked n loaded to, you know, save mah game.

SAM keeps movin toward tha door.

 **DEAN  
** (Shouting) Yo ass is unbelievable, you know that, biatch? I mean fo' months we've been tryin ta break dis demon deal. It aint nuthin but tha nick nack patty wack, I still gots tha bigger sack. Now Dadz bout ta give our asses tha freakin address n' you can't accept it, biatch? Da playa is dead n' you still buttin headz wit tha muthafucka!

 **SAM  
** That aint what tha fuck dis be about.

 **DEAN  
** (Shouting) So what tha fuck is dat shiznit son!

 **SAM  
** (Shoutin back) Da fact is we've gots no hard proof here, Dean. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch fo' realz. Afta every last muthafuckin thang, you still just goin on blind faith!

 **DEAN  
** Yeah, well maybe biaaatch! Yo ass know, maybe thatz all I got, aiiight?

They stare at each other again. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. DEAN looks down.

 **SAM  
** Please. Just please don't go anywhere until I git back. Okay, Dean, biatch? Please.

DEAN remains silent. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. SAM shakes his head n' turns fo' tha door. Shiiit, dis aint no joke. DEAN watches his ass go n' continues starin all up in tha door fo' a long-ass moment yo. Dude shakes his head n' moves ta sit heavily all up in tha table.   
  
..............................

INTERIOR. LANIE'S HOUSE.

 **SAM  
** Has you done holla'd at yo' daddy bout any of this?

 **LANIE  
** And bother his ass at work, biatch? No yo. Dude wouldn't believe me anyway, he'd just chuck me tha fuck into therapy.

 **SAM  
** So what tha fuck did yo' mutha say?

 **LANIE  
** Bitch wanted ta peep mah dirty ass. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. So at first I thought I was supposed ta git all up in tha cemetery.

 **SAM  
** Did yo slick ass?

 **LANIE  
** (Nodding) Nothang happened. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! But then her big-ass booty started askin me ta do other thangs.

 **SAM  
** What sort of thangs?

 **LANIE**  
Shiznitty thangs.  
  
............................

INTERIOR. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. SIMONz ROOM.

SIMON sits playin at his cold-ass table. Da beeper rings. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. SIMON looks over at his cold-ass toy telephone chillin on tha floor then strutts over ta dat shit. Da display readz SHA33.

 **SIMON  
** Hello, biatch? Semen Greenfield bustin lyrics yo. Yo Mommy. Yeah, I wanna peep you, biatch. Where is yo slick ass?

............................

INTERIOR. MOTEL ROOM.

DEAN sits all up in tha table starin at not a god damn thang yo. His beeper rang n' da perved-out muthafucka snatches it up.

 **DEAN  
** Dad?

 **JOHN  
** Yeah.

 **DEAN  
** Wherez tha demon?

............................

INTERIOR. LANIE'S ROOM.

 **SAM  
** Lanie. Biiiatch please.Tell me what tha fuck happened, itz straight-up blingin.

 **LANIE  
** Momma holla'd at mah crazy ass ta git all up in Dadz medicine cabinet. 

 **SAM  
** And?

 **LANIE  
** Bitch wanted mah crazy ass ta take his chillin pizzles, take all of his chillin pizzles.

 **SAM  
** Bitch wanted you ta bust a cap up in yo ass?

 **LANIE  
** (Nods, crying) Why would mah Momma want me ta do that?

 **SAM  
** I don't give a gangbangin' fuck.

 **LANIE  
** I mean, just so I could come ta her?

 **SAM  
** What'd you say?

 **LANIE  
** Bitch wanted mah crazy ass ta come ta her muthafuckin ass.

 **SAM  
** Fuck dat shit, how'd her big-ass booty say it?

 **LANIE  
** "Come ta mah dirty ass." Like a mazillion times.

 **SAM  
** Lanie. Thatz not yo' mother.

..............................

EXTERIOR. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. SUBURBAN STREET.

DEAN pulls up n' gets up yo. Dude grabs his weaponz bag from tha trunk, looks round n' moves toward a house.

...........................

INTERIOR yo. HALLWAY, LANIE'S HOUSE.

 **SAM  
** Listen ta mah dirty ass. Don't answer tha phone. Don't use tha computer n' shit. Don't do anythang unless I say to, all right?

SAM starts down tha stairs n' realises LANIE'S not following.

 **SAM  
** Lanie.

 **LANIE**  
(standin up in a thugged-out doorway) Wherez Simon?  
  
...........................

INTERIOR yo. HOUSE.

DEAN entas on tha fuckin' down-lowly entas n' moves down tha hallway, listenin fo' realz. A floorboard creaks on tha second floor.

 **DEAN  
** Hello, biatch?

.............................

EXTERIOR. BUSY STREET.

SIMON strutts as if up in a trizzle across tha road. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Whips horns blare.

............................

INTERIOR yo. HOUSE.

DEAN drops a rosary tha fuck into a big-ass forty of gin n juice n' shit. Cut ta his ass bobbin a paint can n' sprayin a thugged-out devilz trap on tha floor.  
  
.............................

SIMON keeps struttin across tha next road. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! A big-ass truck barrels toward his muthafuckin ass. In tha cab tha driver glances away from tha road ta check his fuckin lil' delivery list yo. Dude looks back ta peep SIMON up in front of his muthafuckin ass. Da truck horn blares n' tires squeal. It aint nuthin but tha nick nack patty wack, I still gots tha bigger sack. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. SIMON seems ta awaken n' throws his handz up ta protect his dirty ass. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. SAM rushes tha road, grabs SIMON n' dives fo' tha verge. They lay pantin as tha truck roars past.

..........................

INTERIOR. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. SAM'S RENTAL CAR. 

 **SAM  
** (On phone) Dean, it aint Dad.

 **DEAN  
** Then what tha fuck is it?

 **SAM  
** A crocotta.

 **DEAN  
** Is dat a sandwich?

 **SAM  
** Some kind of scavenger n' shit. Mimics loved ones, whispers 'Come ta me', then lures you tha fuck into tha dark n' swallows yo' ass.

 **DEAN  
** A crocotta, right, damn dat make sense.

 **SAM  
** Dean, look, I be sorry as a muthafucka dude, I know...

 **DEAN  
** Yo, don't these thangs live up in filth?

 **SAM  
** Yeah.

 **DEAN  
** Sam, tha flies all up in tha beeper company.

..........................

EXTERIOR. NIGHT. CARPARK OF PHONE COMPANY.

SAM creeps along a alley n' peaks up in a window at STEWIE, chillin at his console yo. Dude is distracted by a funky-ass bangin noise. When he looks back STEWIE is leavin tha room. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. SAM runs back up tha alley. 

Cut ta STEWIE leavin tha building. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. SAM hides behind a van, holdin his beeper ta his wild lil' fuckin ear.

 **DEAN'S VOICEMAIL.  
** This is Herman Munsta n' shit. Leave a message.

 **SAM  
** Dean, I be up in tha parkin lot. Dat punk here, so peek-a-boo, clear tha way, I be comin' thru fo'sho yo. Hurry.

STEWIE unlocks his car. Shiiit, dis aint no joke. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. SAM rushes him, pushin his ass tha fuck into tha hoopty n' holdin a metal spike ta tha back of his neck.

 **STEWIE  
** (Grunting) What tha hell!

 **SAM  
** I know what tha fuck yo ass is.

 **STEWIE  
** Wait, mister.

 **SAM  
** And I know how tha fuck ta bust a cap up in you, biatch.

 **STEWIE  
** Please. Okay, wait, wait. If we overchargin you fo' tha call waitin or suttin' I...I can fix dis shit. I be yo' playa hommie! 

SAM looks confused. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! 

 **STEWIE  
** Please. Please just don't bust a cap up in me biaatch!

Da manager from earlier sneaks up behind SAM.

 **STEWIE  
** Don't bust a cap up in me, please biaatch!

Da manager hits SAM over tha head wit a funky-ass bat. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. SAM slumps ta tha ground.

STEWIE turns around, sees tha manager, grins n' starts bouncin up n' down.

 **STEWIE  
** Yeah! Thatz what tha fuck happens when you mess wit tha beeper company, dillweed dawwwg!

 **STEWIE  
** (To his crazy-ass manager) Nuff props, Clark! 

 **CLARK  
** (Liftin tha bat again) Forget bout dat shit.

 **STEWIE  
** Clark?

CLARK smashes STEWIE wit tha bat.


	5. ACT FOUR

INTERIOR. PHONE COMPANY BASEMENT.

STEWIE n' SAM is tied ta chairs.

 **STEWIE  
** (Snivelling) I be sorry, Clark. I be sorry as a muthafucka fo' whatever I did ta you, biatch. I be sorry as a muthafucka bout dat bullshit...please...

 **SAM  
** (Comin to) Wait son! Don't do dat shit.

 **CLARK  
** (To Sam) Yo ass be awake.

CLARK leans over STEWIE n' places tha tip of a knife against his cold-ass thigh.

 **STEWIE  
** Yo ass aint a killa Clark, no! Therez a phat playa inside of you, I know dat shit.

 **CLARK  
** What do you think, Sammy, is I a phat man?

 **SAM  
** Just let his ass go.

 **CLARK  
** I would. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! I straight-up would. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! If only I'd had mo' than a salad fo' lunch. Yo ass see, I be starving.

Dude lifts tha knife high above his head n' plunges it tha fuck into STEWIE'S chest.

 **SAM  
** No!

CLARK moves up in front of STEWIEz body yo. His grill opens, revealin a funky-ass blood red interior n' razor sharp spikes yo. Dude crouches slightly, holdz STEWIE by both shouldaz n' unhinges his jaw, his crazy-ass grill becomin impossibly wide. Placin his crazy-ass grill close ta STEWIEz grill da perved-out muthafucka sucks up in his wild lil' fuckin juice. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. SAM shuddaz n' looks away.

CLARK stands, wipin his crazy-ass grill.

 **SAM  
** My fuckin last call wit Dean. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. That was you, biatch. Yo ass hustled mah crazy ass here, so peek-a-boo, clear tha way, I be comin' thru fo'sho. 

 **CLARK  
** Some calls I make, some calls I take yo, but you gotta admit, I had you fooled fo' a while fo' realz. All dat Edison beeper crap. 

CLARK laughs n' moves over ta tha telephone exchange cabinet yo. Dude places his handz against tha glass n' leans back up in ecstasy. 

 **SAM  
** What is you bustin?

 **CLARK**  
I be cappin' yo' brutha n' shit. Or maybe I be cappin' another muthafucka. We bout ta just gotta peep how tha fuck it goes.  
  
.........................

INTERIOR. POLICE LOCKER ROOM.

A manz beeper rings just as he finishes changin yo. Dude looks all up in tha number, glances over all up in tha other thug up in tha room, n' lyrics.

 **MAN  
** (Softly) Hello?

 **GIRL  
** (Through static) Yo Daddy.

 **MAN  
** Yo baby.. n' you KNOWS you holla'd you weren't gunna call no mo'.

 **GIRL  
** I know, Daddy.

 **MAN  
** Yo ass know how tha fuck fucked up dis make yo' oldschool man. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch yo. How tha fuck upset I was at yo' funeral. It aint nuthin but tha nick nack patty wack, I still gots tha bigger sack. 

 **GIRL  
** I had ta call, I know whoz ass capped mah crazy ass Daddy.

 **MAN  
** What?

 **GIRL  
** Da playa whoz ass capped me, he all up in tha doggy den n' aint a thugged-out damn thang dat yo' ass can do.

 **MAN  
** (Shocked) What is you sayin ta me son?

 **GIRL  
** Dat punk all up in tha doggy den Daddy, da thug wants ta bust a cap up in you too!

Hangin up tha phone, tha manz grill becomes set up in stone.  
  
..............................

INTERIOR. PHONE COMPANY BASEMENT.

CLARK pulls tha knife outta STEWIEz chest.

 **SAM  
** Yo ass know, mimickin Deanz one thang. But mah Dad. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Thatz a hell of a trick.

 **CLARK  
** Well once I made you two as hunters, dat shiznit was easy as fuck . I found Deanz number, then yo' number, then yo' fatherz numbers. Then emails, voicemails, every last muthafuckin thang. Yo ass see, playas be thinkin dat shiznit just gets erased yo, but it don't. You'd be surprised how tha fuck much of yo ass is just floatin up there, waitin ta be plucked. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! 

 **SAM  
** Deanz not goin ta fall fo' all dis bullshit. Dat punk not goin ta bust a cap up in dat muthafucka.

 **CLARK  
** Then tha muthafucka kills his muthafuckin ass.

...............................

INTERIOR. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. SUBURBAN HOUSE.

Car headlights shine across tha window tha fuck into tha room where DEAN waits yo. Dude silently moves toward tha hallway fo' realz. A hoopty door slams. Boy it's gettin hot, yes indeed it is. DEAN removes tha lid from tha forty of holy gin n juice n' shiznit yo. Dude hears a noise toward tha back of tha doggy den n' frowns, movin down tha hallway toward tha back door yo. Dude pauses, then looks from tha back ta tha front door.

Da back door slams open n' tha playa appears, raisin a rifle n' firing. DEAN leaps outta tha way, droppin tha forty of holy gin n juice n' shit. Da Man begins reloading. DEAN glances all up in tha holy wata it is drainin away yo. Dude waits ta hear tha cap shell bein removed n' runs fo' tha dude, rockin his wild lil' forward movement ta slam his ass back tha fuck into tha wall yo. Dude hits his ass all dem times, then knees his ass viciously. Lettin his ass drop, DEAN moves toward tha rifle but tha playa bigs up, grabbin DEAN n' slammin his ass backwardz onto a table yo. Dude gets up in all dem hits before DEAN headbutts his muthafuckin ass fo' realz. As tha playa falls backwardz ta tha ground DEAN kicks his ass up in tha stomach yo. Dude kicks his ass four times, pauses, then kicks his ass once more, even mo' viciously, gruntin as da ruffneck do so.

..........................

INTERIOR. PHONE COMPANY BASEMENT

 **CLARK  
** (Standin over SAM) Technology. Makes game so much easier n' shit. Used ta be I'd hide up in tha woodz fo' days, weeks, whisperin ta people, tryin ta draw dem up tha fuck into tha night. But they had hood, they all looked up fo' each other, I'd be dirty ta smoke one or two souls a year. Shiiit, dis aint no joke. Now when I be hungry, I simply cook up a funky-ass beeper call. (Sneering) Yo ass be all so connected. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! This type'a shiznit happens all tha time. But you've never been so ridin' solo.

CLARK opens his crazy-ass grill n' begins ta unhinge his jaw while raisin his knife. While dat schmoooove muthafucka has been bustin lyrics SAM has managed ta escape his cold-ass ties, his wrists bloody yo. Dude erupts outta tha chair n' they fall ta tha ground, CLARK losin tha knife. They struggle fo' it, SAM risin first. CLARK grabs SAMz jacket n' swings his ass round tha fuck into a metal grate. CLARK picks up tha knife, hustlin at SAM.

...........................

INTERIOR yo. HOUSE.

DEAN n' tha MAN slam all up in a glass door. Shiiit, dis aint no joke. Da playa is groggy. DEAN quickly reaches fo' tha manz belt yo. Dude pulls up a handgun, flickin tha cartridge up n' tossin it aside fo' realz. As tha playa strugglez ta git ta his wild lil' feet, covered up in glass, DEAN pulls back tha rug, showin tha devil’s trap sprayed onto tha floor yo. Dude turns away, pullin tha exorcizzle outta his thugged-out lil' pocket. Da MAN, confused, stares all up in tha markings on tha floor.

 **MAN  
** What tha fuck iz this?

 **DEAN  
** Yo crazy-ass funeral.

DEAN begins tha exorcizzle up in Latin. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Da playa glares at his ass n' slowly moves forward outta tha circle.

 **MAN  
** Yo ass do dis ta mah daughta too?

 **DEAN  
** (starin all up in tha devilz trap) How tha fuck tha hell did you git out?

 **MAN  
** (Shouting) Did yo dirty ass do dis ta mah daughta too?

 **DEAN  
** Wait, dis be a mistake.

 **MAN  
** Yo ass capped her!!

 **DEAN  
** Fuck dat shit, wait.

Da MAN leaps at DEAN.

...........................

SAM n' CLARK struggle fo' tha knife, exchangin blows as they move bout tha room. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. SAM finally manages ta pull tha knife away n' hits CLARK, forcin his ass backwardz tha fuck into tha wall fo' realz. A spike, one of nuff on a cold-ass lil corkboard, jams tha fuck into tha back of CLARKz neck, cappin' his muthafuckin ass.

........................

Da MAN falls on DEAN as he lies on tha ground, layin tha fuck into his muthafuckin ass.

 **MAN  
** Bitch was 9 muthafuckin years old!!

 **DEAN  
** Stop! I didn't son! Yo ass gotta believe me biaatch!

Da playa keeps hittin his muthafuckin ass.

DEAN manages ta twist round n' grab tha rifle, smackin tha playa up in tha forehead wit tha butt yo. Dude falls backwards. DEAN rises, standin over his muthafuckin ass. 

 **MAN  
** (Crying) Why did you bust a cap up in her?

 **DEAN  
** I be sorry as a muthafucka bout dat bullshit. I didn't bust a cap up in yo' daughter.

 **MAN  
** Then what tha fuck is you bustin here?

 **DEAN  
** (Anguished) I don't give a gangbangin' fuck.


	6. ACT FIVE

INTERIOR. MOTEL ROOM.  
  
DEAN holdz a gangbangin' facecloth ta his cut eye, groaning. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. SAM entas tha room n' comes ta tha door of tha bathroom.

 **DEAN  
** I peep they improved yo' face.

 **SAM  
** (Sniggering) Right back at ya.

DEAN moves past SAM tha fuck into tha main room. They sit on a funky-ass bed each.

 **DEAN  
** So, crocotta, huh?

 **SAM  
** Yep.

 **DEAN  
** That would explain tha flies.

 **SAM  
** Yeah it would. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Yo, um...look I be sorry as a muthafucka it wasn't Dad.

 **DEAN  
** (Huffs) Nah, I gave you a hell of a time on dis one.

 **SAM  
** Ahh.

 **DEAN  
** Yo ass was right.

 **SAM  
** Forget bout dat shit.

 **DEAN  
** I can't. I wanted ta believe so badly dat there was a way outta all dis bullshit. I mean I be starin down tha barrel at dis thang. Yo ass know, Hell. For real, forever, n' I just...

 **SAM  
** Yeah.

 **DEAN  
** (Tearin up) I be scared, Sam. I be straight-up trippin like a muthafucka.

 **SAM  
** (Also tearin up) I know.

 **DEAN  
** I guess I was willin ta believe anything. Yo ass know, tha last act of a thugged-out desperate man. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. 

 **SAM  
** Therez not a god damn thang wack wit havin hope, Dean.

 **DEAN  
** Hope don't git you jack squat. I can't expect Dad ta show up wit some miracle all up in tha last minute. I can't expect anybody to, you know. I mean tha only thug dat can git me outta dis thang is mah dirty ass.

 **SAM  
** (Earnestly) And mah dirty ass.

 **DEAN  
** And mah crazy ass son?

 **SAM  
** What?

 **DEAN  
** Deep revelation, havin a real moment here, thatz what tha fuck you come back with, biatch? And mah crazy ass son, biatch? 

 **SAM  
** (Raisin his wild lil' fuckin eyebrows) Uh...do you want a poem?

 **DEAN  
** Da momentz gone.

SAM smilez slightly. DEAN flicks tha TV on, reaches between tha beds, grabs two bottlez of brew n' holdz one up ta SAM without lookin at his muthafuckin ass. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. SAM takes one, they crack dem open n' drank up in unison, while starin all up in tha TV.


End file.
